


Bedtime Stories

by stelladora



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, M/M, warning for me making things up as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelladora/pseuds/stelladora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Jimmy stay up late talking about their lives before Downton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It hadn’t been as difficult as either of them had expected. Getting back into the routine of things at Downton came naturally, as neither wanted to dwell too much on the past or drag up painful memories. After Thomas’ wounds healed, he had gone back to work, and Jimmy had done his best to keep their relationship professional. Everyone else downstairs managed to brush the Incident, as they called it, under the rug. It took some time for the two men to become totally comfortable around each other: sometimes one or the other of them would find an excuse to leave the room when they ended up alone. It came gradually, but they were soon back to normal, and could work together without a problem.

Seeing Thomas take a beating for him had caused Jimmy pangs of guilt. He knew he’d treated the man abominably, even if Thomas assured him that it had really been O’Brien’s fault. Jimmy had resolved that, as soon as he could, he would give Thomas another chance. It didn’t come straight away, but soon the two men trusted each other, and built up a steady friendship over the next two years.

Winter was finally giving way to spring at Downton, and Jimmy and Thomas were, by that time, thick as thieves (and just as conniving, according to some of the other staff). The days went by without much fuss, and Thomas and Jimmy often found time to chat in between work, or after the day was finished.

The day passed as usual: Thomas bustling about, scolding hall boys and footmen alike, and Jimmy doing the bare minimum while trying to avoid Carson. When they passed each other during the day, the two would smile at each other, despite whatever work they were currently bogged down with. Jimmy was surprised that something so simple could alleviate his exhaustion so thoroughly, but he didn’t dwell on it.

Late that evening, after everyone upstairs had gone to bed, Jimmy and Thomas were seated in the servants’ hall. A few of the others were there, reading the paper or playing solitaire, but Thomas and Jimmy took no notice of them.

“Play us a song why don’t you, Jimmy,” Thomas suggested as he tapped his cigarette over an ashtray. It had been a while since he’d heard Jimmy play piano. The young man played the best out of anyone Thomas knew (not that he knew many pianists); when Jimmy played, his whole body became filled with the music. He’d sway slowly on the bench or lurch forward vehemently, depending on the piece. It was all Thomas could do to keep his expression relaxed and not beam adoringly at Jimmy as he played.

Jimmy grinned, getting up from his seat across the table from Thomas and settling down at the piano. He knew how highly Thomas thought of his talent, and he never passed up a chance to show off. Jimmy smiled and paused to think before he began. The piece started out slow, but built into fast-paced moments when Jimmy’s hands flew over the keys as he moved his whole body with the music.

“This is Bach, isn’t it?” Thomas asked, feeling proud of himself for recognizing the style.

Jimmy shook his head as he played, able to focus on the music as he spoke, like the notes came of their own volition out of his fingertips. “Chopin,” he corrected the under-butler with a small smile.

Behind him, Thomas could hear the maids giggle quietly, and his cheeks flushed. “They all sound the same to me,” Thomas said with a haughty shrug.

“Well, this is one of my favorites. It’s one of his Nocturnes. Always reminded me of a lullaby,” Jimmy said, finishing the song with a few lingering notes. His body stilled for a moment as he let the last sound fade, then he straightened up and turned to Thomas, a smile playing around his lips.

Thomas smiled back at him for just a moment, then composed himself and stood up. “It’s time for everyone to get to bed, I think. Thank you for the lullaby, James,” he said with a teasing bow to Jimmy.

Jimmy laughed, the sound as golden as his hair. “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Barrow,” he responded. The others headed upstairs while Jimmy pulled down the lid of the piano. Thomas waited for him, loath to leave Jimmy just yet.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” Thomas asked as the pair set off up the stairs. “I don’t suppose Lady Anstruther took the time to teach her little pet how to be an accomplished gentleman,” he teased.

Jimmy scoffed, “No, she most certainly did not,” he said, thinking back to his previous employer. “I learned in school. My instructors all said that I should do something constructive with my time, rather than play tricks on fellow students,” he said, unable to hide a smile.

Thomas laughed at that as they emerged into the corridor leading to the men’s quarters. “I can just imagine it. Twelve-year-old Jimmy Kent getting into all sorts of trouble at school.” The two men chuckled as Jimmy headed to his room, Thomas unconsciously following. He tried to imagine what Jimmy would have looked like as a child, but he found he couldn’t think of Jimmy as anything other than he was now—gorgeous and blond with a smirk permanently attached to his lips.

“Oh, please. I’m sure I was a perfect angel compared to you,” Jimmy said, opening his door and going inside. “I’m sure you’ve got loads of stories,” he said. Turning around to smirk at Thomas, Jimmy saw the under-butler standing in the doorway, looking hesitant. Jimmy’s brow furrowed as he looked at the older man. “You’re allowed in, you know,” he said calmly. He’d never known Thomas to be timid or shy, and it seemed strange that the older man wouldn’t strut in and make himself at home.

Thomas entered the room, a faint hint of blush coloring his cheeks. “Didn’t want to come in without an invitation, is all,” he said, clearing his throat. The last time that had happened, things hadn’t gone too well. Thomas was in no hurry to repeat his past blunders. “I’m nothing if not polite, you know,” he added. With those words, his customary smug look was back in place, but Jimmy could see through it.

 _He’s still worried about pushing me too far,_ Jimmy thought to himself. _Probably thinks I’d have him sacked for coming in here uninvited, what with all that happened._ Jimmy felt a pang of guilt; he had never meant to cause Thomas so much pain and consternation, and now there would always be that subtle barrier between them. “At least you’ve got that going for you,” Jimmy said, taking Thomas’ hint and brushing away the bit of awkwardness. “We can’t all be as beautiful and charming as I am.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “I suppose I should be honored to be in the presence of such a paragon of manliness,” he said dryly.

Jimmy cracked a smile first, and Thomas followed suit. “So come on, then. Tell me about when you were at school,” Jimmy said, sitting down on his bed. Thomas took a seat in the chair near the small window, across the room.

“Not much to say, really. What do you want to know?”

Jimmy resisted the urge to say the first thing that came to mind: _Everything_. Truth be told, he wanted to know all there was to know about his friend. Thomas couldn’t possibly have been born as the sullen, decorous gentleman that he was, and Jimmy was keen to find out what had made him that way. “Anything. Were you good in school? What sort of people were your friends?” he asked, putting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward on his bed.

Thomas stopped and considered for a while, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. It struck him as odd to even be in this situation. No one had ever taken an interest in his life, at least not anything pertaining to his life before Downton. Now Jimmy seemed to be asking him to share everything, and it was like being thrown into a spotlight.

“Well…I was always decent. I got by fairly easily, did my work well. I wasn’t ever top of my class, but that never mattered to me much, anyway.”

“What was your favorite subject?” Jimmy asked, interrupting Thomas’ thoughts.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Eager, are we?” Jimmy chuckled and leaned back, placing his hands behind him on the thin mattress.

The footman didn’t want to seem too curious or impertinent. “Sorry. You just never mention your youth, is all. Not going to let this chance go by.” He smiled, and Thomas mirrored the expression, at ease again with Jimmy.

“My favorite was probably history. All those battles and treaties and everything. I thought it was so very grown-up, to be involved in the management of the world. Until I went to war myself, of course,” Thomas added with a sour frown.

Jimmy understood; he’d seen the war as well – they all had – but in a rather different capacity. “I don’t want to talk about the war,” he said firmly. That would only lead them down a miserable road, and he didn’t want to ruin their nighttime conversation like that. “Did you have many friends?” he asked, changing the subject.

Thomas hesitated again. He hadn’t thought back to his school days in years. “Not…very many,” he said truthfully. “I wasn’t one of the popular blokes, by any means,” he said with a laugh. “As a child, I had a few friends. No one incredibly close, though. And as I got older, the other boys… They didn’t really want to spend that much time with me,” Thomas finished lamely.

Jimmy furrowed his brow at that. “Why not? Were you too bossy?” he asked with a sly grin.

“No. They all sort of suspected I was…‘unnatural,’ as they put it,” Thomas said, directing his gaze at the floor rather than at Jimmy. “Maybe they thought it was contagious,” he added in an attempt at humor. The joke fell flat, and he continued to stare at the floor.

“Oh,” Jimmy said quietly, getting the message. He held his tongue for once, deciding it would be unwise to ask a lot of impertinent questions. The last thing he wanted was for Thomas to get upset and leave. He was enjoying their chat. “So…am I your best friend, then?” Jimmy asked, grinning at Thomas, hoping to pull the man out of his thoughts.

Thomas did grace Jimmy with a smile, albeit an embarrassed, flustered one. “Yes, I suppose you are. I really should expand my social circle, if you’re the best I’ve got,” he added sarcastically.

Jimmy rolled his eyes at the joke. “Please. You know you couldn’t possibly do any better.”

“I’m sure I could do _much_ better than someone who keeps me up all night chitchatting,” Thomas pointed out.

“I’m not keeping you here,” Jimmy said innocently. “If you want to leave, go ahead. Go to sleep, like a good little boy.”

“Oh, no,” Thomas replied, shaking his head. “That would hardly be fair, would it? I’ve told you about my childhood, now you should return the favor.”

Jimmy gave him a mischievous smile. “Are you sure you want to hear my sad, sad story?” he joked. Really, there was nothing to tell of his own life. He was much more interested in Thomas, who was years older and had done far more interesting things.

“Yes. Mind you, I’ll be having my money back if you don’t make me cry,” Thomas warned him with a laugh.

“Now there’s something I’d love to see. The imperious Thomas Barrow in tears.” Jimmy had rarely seen Thomas show any emotion other than contempt and arrogance, save for on a few exceptional occasions. The two men laughed before Thomas prompted him to begin. “Alright, then. At school, let’s see…I was never so much interested in the lessons. I cared more about making sure that I was everyone’s best friend. Everyone loved me, you see,” Jimmy said, feigning haughtiness.

“Well then, this must be a real change,” Thomas said sarcastically.

Jimmy just made a face at him and moved on. “Teachers didn’t like me very much because of that, I supposed. I wasn’t terrible in school, but y’know, I never ‘reached my full potential,’ as they said. Not that it ever did me any real harm. I knew I wasn’t going to go to university and become some scholar or anything,” Jimmy said with a shrug.

“What did you plan on doing?” Thomas asked him. “Always had big dreams of being a footman?”

Jimmy smirked. “Does anyone? No, it was either I take up a job in service, or find some kind of work in a shop. Being in service seemed more exciting. Seeing these grand old families swanning about, y’know. More variety than in a milliner’s shop. So eventually I ended up as a hall boy for the Anstruthers, and worked my way up from there.” He shrugged, finishing his story anticlimactically. “Nothing special in my life, you see.”

Thomas begged to differ; he was certain that Jimmy’s life was all sorts of interesting, if he could catch the footman in the right mood to tell the story.

“Tell me something else about yourself,” Jimmy demanded from the across the room.

Thomas arched an eyebrow at the command. “A bit pushy, aren’t we?” he said. He caught sight of the clock on Jimmy’s nightstand and cursed it for reminding him that both of the men needed to get some sleep for the next day. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow night if we don’t want to be dead on our feet all day,” Thomas said, standing up from the chair in the corner.

Jimmy looked a little disappointed, but quickly attempted to hide the childish look. “Alright then,” he sighed dramatically as he rose to see Thomas out. “Sleep tight, Mr. Barrow,” he teased.

“Likewise, James,” Thomas said, returning Jimmy’s formality. He graced Jimmy with a smile before silently heading down the corridor to his own room.

As he got undressed and ready for bed in the small hours of the morning, Thomas smiled to himself. He and Jimmy had stayed up gossiping like schoolgirls, something that they never would have done a year or even a few months ago. Thomas knew better than to hope that Jimmy’s feelings toward him had developed into something more than friendship – he’d resigned himself long ago – but it was nevertheless wonderful to think that Jimmy trusted him enough to speak so candidly with him, and that the footman was interested in Thomas’ life. He got into bed, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he and Jimmy had a conversation like that, unaware that Jimmy was across the hall thinking the same thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas and Jimmy were both groggy the next day when they awoke. Thomas was used to getting up early and running on few hours of sleep, so by the time he made his way down to breakfast and had his coffee, he was ready for the day. Jimmy, on the other hand, came down to the servants’ hall with drooping eyes, barely speaking to anyone.

“Rough night, Jimmy?” Anna asked gently from across the table.

“Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep,” Jimmy mumbled, fighting every urge to ignore her and lay his head down on the table.

“Well, better have some coffee or something,” Alfred said, thumping the other footman on the back. “Can’t have Mr. Carson seeing you nodding off in the silver cabinet.”

Jimmy drank his coffee quietly through breakfast, Thomas sparing him a glance every so often, feeling a smidgen of guilt for keeping him awake so late. He told himself that tonight would have to be an early night for both of them, despite how much he wanted to continue their conversation from last night.

Soon their day began, the bells on the wall ringing assertively and calling out their various tasks. Jimmy gradually gained energy, and despite Carson’s eagerness to call out Jimmy for the smallest of mistakes (a sentiment perhaps imagined by the footman himself), everything at dinner went off without a hitch.

Life at Downton had become routine; everyone’s tasks the same basic things day in and day out. Sometimes Jimmy found it incredibly boring, but other days, like today, Jimmy took comfort in the security. He always knew what his next task would be, and he always knew that there would be time at the end of the work day to sit in the servants’ hall and chat, or play cards or the piano.

“I think I’ll go up early tonight,” Thomas said to him, leaving the servants’ hall as Jimmy entered.

Jimmy’s face fell. “Oh?” he asked, composing himself quickly so that Thomas didn’t see his disappointment. He’d been looking forward to learning more about the under-butler’s life before they’d met.

“I think we both need some sleep,” Thomas explained, cursing himself for imagining that Jimmy seemed disappointed. The footman would probably be relieved to get a good night’s rest. Thomas forced himself to smile amicably at Jimmy, then made his way up the stairs to his room. Jimmy followed close behind him.

“Are you sure you’re not just too shy to tell me any more about your life?” Jimmy said, his voice teasing.

Thomas frowned at him. “I’m certainly not shy about it,” he said.

“Well then, let’s go,” Jimmy said, leading the way to his own room again, lacking a better ploy to invite Thomas in.

Thomas rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he followed. He was privately glad that Jimmy seemed so intent on talking with him, and felt a small bit of pride that the footman found him interesting.

Jimmy entered his room, proud of himself for getting Thomas to follow him without much begging (two years ago, he thought to himself, he would have only needed the smallest insinuation to coax Thomas inside). He determinedly went to the corner of the room and retrieved the faded old chair, bringing it closer to the bed. “Wish there was somewhere else to sit,” he mused aloud, plopping himself down on the edge of his bed again and gesturing for Thomas to take a seat.

“You want to be able to look me in the eye to make sure I’m not lying?” Thomas asked, a smirk in his voice.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I just don’t feel like shouting across the room, is all. Unless you want to wake everyone.”

Thomas thought about Carson or Alfred walking down the corridor and hearing the two of them in Jimmy’s bedroom together and decided Jimmy was right. He sat down in the chair by Jimmy’s bed, looking over at the younger man expectantly. “Well? Fire away, then.”

Taking a seat on his bed, Jimmy thought for a moment. “Did you get on with your parents?” he asked finally, unable to think of anything better.

“Yes. My parents were very kind to me. Fair, though. Didn’t let me get away with anything mischievous.” The corners of Thomas’ mouth twitched up in a smile as he recalled his family. “Dad taught me all sorts of things about clocks, since that was his work. He always expected that I would succeed him, and work with him in the shop. I sometimes wonder if I let him down, going into service. But I know he and mum both wanted what was best for me.” He shrugged at Jimmy.

“Are they…?” Jimmy started the question but trailed off, unsure of how delicately he should be about the topic. Thomas understood his meaning.

“Yeah. Nearly two years ago. Dad had had some trouble with his heart lately, and apparently one evening he just…stopped ticking.” He looked down at his hands, flinching at his own bad pun. “Mum died soon after. Grief, they said. Didn’t know how she was going to go on without him, I suppose. I… I hadn’t seen them in about seven months when they died. The only time I ever found to go back home was at Christmas. Working here, I never really had the time to go visit.”

“That was where you went then, that time you were gone for so long?” Jimmy said, his voice subdued. He remembered once when Thomas had taken a leave of absence for five days, and had responded with a snarky comment whenever anyone had asked him why. Carson had kept that particular secret well; Jimmy and the others had had no idea it was something so upsetting. Jimmy wasn’t surprised that he’d never found out the reason; Thomas wasn’t known for sharing his business with others. Thomas nodded, still staring at his hands, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation now that he’d taken it to such a dark place.

Uncertainly, Jimmy reached out and put his hand over both of Thomas’. He squeezed gently in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture before taking his hand away, conscious of the boundaries between them. “It’s bad enough to begin with, but I can’t even imagine losing both your parents at the same time,” he said quietly. It sounded like Thomas had been close with his parents, and Jimmy empathized with him.

Thomas was startled by Jimmy’s gesture, but didn’t show it. He didn’t want to make Jimmy think that the comfort was unwelcome: in truth, Thomas appreciated it. “The past few years, I hadn’t gotten to see them much. So…it wasn’t a very abrupt ending,” Thomas said. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and forced a smile. He didn’t want Jimmy feeling sorry for him.

“You said that your father wanted you to take over his shop, so why did you go into service?” Jimmy prompted him, jumping on a chance to change the subject.

Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. I liked working in the shop, I suppose. It was nice enough, and the work wasn’t too challenging. I had a big imagination as a kid, mum said. I was ambitious – _am_ ambitious. Wanted to see new places, and try to make something of myself. So much for all that,” Thomas said with a chuckle.

Jimmy frowned at him, loath to hear Thomas belittle himself. “You have made something of yourself. You’re a fair deal more important than I am, being under-butler and all. You’ll probably be the one to take over for Carson,” Jimmy reminded him. Being the head of household staff for a manor like Downton was nothing to sneeze at, Jimmy had learned. People respected Carson, and they would respect Thomas if he took over. Still seeing uncertainty in Thomas’ eyes, Jimmy tried a different tactic. “Plus, it’s not like it’s too late to do anything. You’re still young.”

“I’m thirty-one in two weeks, March 18th,” Thomas said with a smile. “That’s a whole five years more than you.”

This time, Jimmy hid his surprise well. He’d known that Thomas was a few years his senior, but he hadn’t been aware that the man was so much older. “You can still change, if you really wanted to,” Jimmy said. He would hate for Thomas to leave Downton; the under-butler was his best friend here, and the only thing that made the job somewhat worthwhile for him.

Thomas shook his head. “Go off and leave you here unsupervised? I don’t think so,” Thomas said with a smirk. It would kill him to leave Jimmy. It would be like ripping out his own flesh.

“If you could do anything, what would it be?” Jimmy asked him playfully.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable as he thought about it. “I don’t know. I’d want to work, I think, to keep myself occupied. But not with people. I’d have my own place, far away from everyone.”

Jimmy laughed. “You could be a hermit clockmaker,” he suggested. Both the men laughed, Jimmy relishing the genuine smile on Thomas’ face that he seemed to be seeing more and more. “I wouldn’t work. I’d want to be a lord or something; live in one of these huge houses and have all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted.”

Thomas shook his head with a smile. “That sounds like you. Hedonistic and impractical,” he chided.

The two of them were quiet for a minute, feeling content to just be near each other, although neither of them spoke that thought. Eventually, Thomas pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked up at Jimmy, his golden hair shining in the yellow light. “What were your parents like?” he asked, hoping the topic wasn’t too sensitive. Jimmy had once mentioned that his parents had passed away.

Jimmy hummed a low, steady note as he thought. He knew it was only fair to answer the same questions he’d asked Thomas, and he’d had years to compose himself after his parents had died. “I loved my mum much more than my dad. He was always really cross. Big military man, sort of…intimidating for a kid, you know?”

Thomas nodded and imagined Jimmy as a child, clinging to his mother’s skirts as she showered affection on him. He liked to imagine Jimmy as a happy little boy, loved by everyone.

“I loved my mum as a kid, though. She would read to me often. And then when I went to school, she wrote me these long letters. She was really good with words,” Jimmy explained. “My dad, though, he was always waiting for me to impress him. I didn’t get very good marks at school, so he decided that I should go off and work as soon as I could; try to make something of myself, y’know? So I got sent to Lady Anstruther’s to be a hall boy, and then a footman when I got older.”

Thomas had never realized how lucky he’d been to have parents who’d supported him. Even if he hadn’t done as well as he had in school, he would have had his father’s shop to fall back on. “Was he proud of you when you went to war?” Thomas asked Jimmy, hoping for a happy ending to the story.

Jimmy thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I doubt it. I told you, I wasn’t really on the front anywhere. I stayed here in England while he went off to fight. There wasn’t much I could have done about it, though,” Jimmy pointed out. Thomas nodded in solidarity. “Doesn’t matter though. I mean, I’m happy with my life. I didn’t go out there and get riddled full of holes. I’m still alive,” the footman said, almost defensively.

“That is something to be proud of, after the war,” Thomas said, flexing his left hand in its glove. He wanted to reach out and comfort Jimmy, and tell him that his father didn’t matter, but Thomas was still too scared to cross any lines. Jimmy was looking down, hands folded in his lap, before his eyes darted to Thomas.

“You never talk about your injury,” he said, keeping his tone blank so as to not seem too pushy on what he figured was a sensitive topic.

Thomas could have guessed that this line of questioning was coming, but his stomach still fluttered. What would Jimmy think if Thomas told him the truth? “I suppose I just don’t think of it much anymore. Happened so long ago,” Thomas said. Jimmy was still looking at his hand, and Thomas knew what he (and everyone else) was thinking. “Would you like to see it?” he asked, not waiting for a response before he began to remove the glove.

In truth, Jimmy had always been curious to see Mr. Barrow’s injured left hand, but it surprised him that Thomas would be so willing to show him. He watched, fascinated, as Thomas pulled off the glove and flexed his fingers, letting his skin breathe. The middle of his hand had a large circular scar, with the skin rough and pale there. Instinctively and without asking, Jimmy reached out to take Thomas’ hand between his own two. Jimmy turned it over to look at the palm, finding it much the same. He ran his fingertips gently over the skin, feeling it rise in little mountains where there should have been only plains. “Does it hurt?” Jimmy asked in a whisper.

“Sometimes when it snows. Or rains,” Thomas said with a small smile. The moment felt solemn and important, like the two of them were sharing something momentous. He enjoyed the feeling of Jimmy’s hands on his, and tried to memorize the sensation since it was unlikely to happen again.

Jimmy was transfixed, and after examining Thomas’ scar, inspected the rest of the man’s hand. It was larger than his own, and stronger-looking. Very square and pale, but still lithe. There was dark hair on Thomas’ knuckles and the undamaged parts of the back, he noticed. Jimmy entwined their fingers and held Thomas’ hand, looking up at the other man’s face.

Thomas could see a split-second of uncertainty, as if Jimmy was fearful of how he would react. As quick as it came, it was gone, and Jimmy smiled at him, continuing to hold his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They sat opposite each other, and Thomas smiled back at him, wondering if he was dreaming. “I want to tell you how it happened,” Thomas said softly, his smile faltering as he second-guessed himself. _What if he’s disgusted by my cowardice? What if he never speaks to me again?_ He had never told anyone except O’Brien, and if word got around, god only knew what would happen.

“Okay,” Jimmy said, sensing the trepidation in Thomas’ voice. He knew how traumatic some war stories were for those who had lived through them, and he wondered what Thomas could have to say that would make him look so shaken. At the same time, Jimmy was conscious of the fact that Thomas hadn’t pulled his hand away, and he considered that a victory. Jimmy didn’t allow himself to think about how right and natural it felt to be holding Thomas’ hand.

_Promise you won’t hate me. Promise you won’t throw me out and scream at me,_ Thomas wanted to say. He didn’t, not wanting to seem so foolishly dependent on Jimmy’s approval. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t in a battle or anything,” Thomas began, fighting to conceal his nerves. “It was… I did it on purpose,” he finally said, the words coming out in a rush, like air from a tire. Thomas sat stiffly, his throat feeling tight as he looked at Jimmy for a reaction.

Jimmy could tell that Thomas wasn’t lying, but it still surprised him. In the time he’d known Thomas, he’d thought up hundreds of scenarios to explain the wound: a daring battle with an enemy soldier, a land mine explosion, a fight in the trenches… Jimmy had never imagined that Thomas had gotten shot through the hand of his own volition.

The look of disbelief on Jimmy’s face made Thomas’ heart sink and his mind reel. He didn’t want to go on, but he felt that he owed Jimmy some sort of further explanation now. “It was so much worse than any of the reports say. It was worse than hell, and I wanted out. I wasn’t brave or strong enough to stay there. So…one night, I held up a lighter, and I waited. And then they sent me home,” Thomas explained. It was an abridged version of the story, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any more. His throat felt tight, and his stomach was full of butterflies.

Jimmy saw the fear on Thomas’ face even now, and imagined it magnified a hundredfold. His own experience in the war had been easy compared with what others had had to deal with, and Jimmy felt guilty. He was quiet for a moment, thinking of how best to comfort Thomas and reassure him, before he felt Thomas pulling his hand away. Jimmy grabbed for it again, gently taking it in his own. “I don’t blame you. I would have done something even worse had I been there, I think,” Jimmy said. “And it got you home. Who knows what would have happened if you’d stayed?”

It took Thomas a second to realize that Jimmy wasn’t condemning him, wasn’t admonishing him for betraying his country. He was flooded with relief as he felt Jimmy’s hand holding his. Thomas nodded.

Jimmy wanted to do something more to comfort Thomas. Hold him, tell him that everything was alright…but he couldn’t. That would be too much. He’d lost any chance he ever had with Thomas, and Jimmy knew that. _I can never give you what you want._ That was what Jimmy had said after the Incident. He’d cursed himself for those words a hundred times since. Jimmy knew now, after thinking about it, that he _could_ give Thomas what he wanted. But Thomas had certainly moved on, and it was time for Jimmy to do the same. Friends was better than nothing, he’d decided.

Neither of them was sure how long they’d sat like that, holding hands. Thomas made his best attempt to crush any shred of hope that Jimmy’s feelings hand changed: _He’s only doing this because you’re so pathetic. He doesn’t want to see you cry in front of him, that’s all._ The thought made him feel worse, but Thomas soon composed himself enough to stand up and pull his hand away from Jimmy’s. It felt cold now.

“It’s getting late,” Thomas said quietly. Despite his best intentions, he’d kept Jimmy up again.

“Right,” Jimmy said, standing along with Thomas, feeling sorry for himself and even sorrier he couldn’t just get over it.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Thomas said as he left the room. He attempted to smile as he went, but it felt forced.

Jimmy nodded, watching as Thomas left. _Goodnight. I love you._


	3. Chapter 3

Jimmy smiled at Thomas as he lay next to him in bed. “I’m so happy,” Jimmy said, pressing close to Thomas and holding him.

“I’m happy too. I like being close to you,” Thomas replied. “May I kiss you again?”

Jimmy nodded, ready this time. This was their _real_ first kiss, he thought. Not the one that had happened before. Their lips met, and Jimmy felt lost and utterly blissful in the moment. They kissed until Jimmy had to pull away to breathe. “You taste so nice,” Jimmy told him. “Like roses.”

Thomas grinned, his lips looking much more red than normally. “So do you,” he said. “Kiss me again.” Jimmy leaned in, but found that Thomas’ red lips had become fragile and papery, like two rose petals. “Careful, Jimmy,” Thomas said, his mouth turning into a rose. “Don’t hurt yourself.” Jimmy looked down and saw that thorns had sprouted up from Thomas’ skin, covering the older man. They covered his own skin, as well. Jimmy looked around, startled, at the floor of his room, now covered in red roses.

“Thomas, I can’t kiss you,” Jimmy said, feeling upset. Thomas didn’t respond, roses blooming from his skin now. Jimmy was scared. What was he going to do if he couldn’t hold or kiss Thomas?

He woke up with a vague feeling of panic and uneasiness.

* * *

Thomas felt guilty again the next morning. Jimmy was later to breakfast than usual, and he could barely manage to keep his eyes open. Obviously Jimmy wasn’t meant for late nights, or at least wasn’t accustomed to them. As much as Thomas wanted to continue their two-night tradition of staying up late to chat, he knew that it wasn’t fair to do so. At this rate, Jimmy would end up falling asleep serving dinner.

He’d left Jimmy’s room feeling a strange mixture of hope and sorrow. The way Jimmy had held his hand had meant so much to him, but he doubted it meant the same thing to Jimmy. The footman had made his feelings very clear after the Incident: _I can never give you what you want._ The words still rang in Thomas’ ears sometimes, but he tried to ignore them. Jimmy was his friend now, and friendships could be just as strong as romantic relationships. That was small consolation during times when Thomas was set on feeling sorry for himself.

Jimmy stumbled through the day, managing to get all his work done with only mild reprimands regarding his “laziness,” as Carson termed it. Shortly before the gong was rung, Jimmy passed by Thomas exiting the dining room. “I need to speak with you,” Jimmy said, his tone hushed.

A chill went through Thomas, his mind foolishly jumping to horrible conclusions. “What about?”

“Never mind that. But after dinner tonight, we need to talk.”

“You need to sleep, is what you need,” Thomas said pointedly. He had to look out for Jimmy, even if it meant sacrificing some time with him. “We can talk tomorrow, after everyone’s gone up,” he suggested.

Jimmy looked frustrated, but fought back the urge to make a scene. Both of them had work to get on with, and it would be better to just agree than start an argument. “Fine. Tomorrow,” he said, brushing past Thomas.

The dream had made Jimmy even more certain that he and Thomas should talk about things. Specifically, the fact that Jimmy was in love with him. He felt terrible about it; Thomas had spent all that time longing for him, and Jimmy had brushed him off. Not to mention the whole downstairs staff (and, indeed, some people upstairs as well) making judgments about him. Thomas had borne the whole ordeal as well as could be expected, and had certainly moved on from it by now. Jimmy worried that it was too late to strike something up again, but he had to at least get this off his chest.

That evening seemed impossibly slow for Jimmy. He was restless all through dinner, earning himself a few glares from Carson as they stood in the dining room. Finally they cleared up and returned downstairs. Jimmy could tell by the way Thomas avoided his gaze that the under-butler wouldn’t budge from his resolve to go to bed early. Hopefully the unforeseen delay wouldn’t make Jimmy lose his nerve; he wanted to talk about this while he had the courage to do so.

Thomas did his best to avoid Jimmy for the evening. He wanted nothing more than to continue to stay up late into the night chatting with him, but he knew that they both needed their sleep, Jimmy especially. It wouldn’t do to have Jimmy falling asleep while working. The last thing Thomas wanted was for Jimmy to get reprimanded due to their late night conversations. He busied himself with work for the rest of the evening, doing all the tasks he hadn’t gotten around to earlier in the day. He worried about what Jimmy could want to talk to him about; the footman’s expression had been serious when he’d found Thomas coming out of the dining room. Perhaps Jimmy didn’t want to continue their nightly conversations. The fear of being rejected helped keep Thomas away. It was a ridiculous and childish notion, but Thomas would rather prolong that discussion if it had to happen. He wasn’t sure he could stand being rejected by Jimmy again.

A sour mood came over Thomas that evening as he thought about what Jimmy could have to say to him. He was overanalyzing it, he knew, but he couldn’t help being nervous. It seemed that, after so long of being okay, he was starting to relapse into his old habits of being a complete mess around Jimmy. Thomas scolded himself for it, and went up to bed as soon as he was finished with his work, not even bothering to check the servants’ hall to see if Jimmy had indeed gone up early.

_This is ridiculous,_ Thomas thought to himself as he undressed and got ready for bed. _I’m acting like a child. A lovesick little boy._ He berated himself until he got into bed, burrowing down into the covers. _It doesn’t matter what he has to tell me. It’s probably something stupid_ , he thought. Thomas had to concentrate on pushing the thoughts away and clearing his mind in order to fall asleep at all that night.

At breakfast the next morning, Thomas was happy to see that Jimmy looked much better than he had the previous mornings. At least delaying the mysterious conversation hadn’t been for nothing. Thomas smiled at Jimmy good-naturedly, searching the footman’s demeanor for any hint that would indicate he’d changed his feelings. Jimmy didn’t show anything: he didn’t shy away from Thomas or ignore him, and he returned the smile, seeming to warm the entire room in so doing. Thomas resigned himself to the private embarrassment of having been worried all night for nothing. Clearly Jimmy was still his friend.

The morning passed as usual, with Thomas and Jimmy going their separate ways to take care of various tasks. Early in the afternoon, Jimmy headed to the library in order to take away the tea. Instead of finding the room empty, as he expected, Jimmy saw Thomas standing in front of one of the bookshelves, searching. The under-butler turned as Jimmy entered and gave him a smile. “Hello there,” Thomas said in greeting.

Jimmy couldn’t help but smile at him as he went to the table. “Stealing books? I would have thought these were far above your level of comprehension,” Jimmy teased him.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “His Lordship asked me to fetch some things for him,” he explained.

“Well, you’re nothing if not a good little doggie, aren’t you?” Jimmy laughed.

“Insulting your superiors? I could have you punished for that, you know,” Thomas threatened him playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare punish me, would you?” Jimmy asked in his most innocent voice. “Your best mate? You’d be lost without me and you know it.”

Thomas laughed as he collected the two books he’d come for. “I suppose you’re right. How are you feeling? You look much better today,” he added, moving over to Jimmy at the table.

“Very well, thank you, despite being sent up to bed like a child,” Jimmy said as he set the cups and saucers onto a tray.

“Well, perhaps if you’re a good little boy I’ll let you stay up past your bedtime tonight,” Thomas said sarcastically. Both men chuckled at that. “I should get going,” Thomas said, indicating the books. It wouldn’t do to keep Lord Grantham waiting.

“Right. See you later then,” Jimmy said, giving Thomas’ shoulder a squeeze. It wasn’t until Thomas was out of the room and he was picking up the tray to return downstairs that Jimmy realized what he’d done. The two of them rarely shared physical connections, they were always very careful of that. Apparently today and the other night when they’d held hands was an exception. Jimmy found that he no longer considered it forbidden for them to do those sorts of things, and the realization startled him. He had no idea when it had happened, but he’d fallen in love with Thomas Barrow.

Thomas left the room without another word, telling himself over and over again that there was nothing romantic in Jimmy’s action. However, between that and the handholding they’d done the other night, Thomas was beginning to wonder. Was Jimmy playing with him, or did he give no importance to things like that? Before he had the chance to overanalyze the tiny actions, Thomas resolved to busy himself with work. There was no point in going down that road again.

The rest of the day went smoothly: Thomas kept himself occupied, earning rare praise from Mr. Carson. Finally everyone upstairs had gone to bed, and Thomas sank down into a chair at the table in the servants’ hall. Alfred and Ivy, along with a few other maids and hall boys, were there as well when Jimmy came in.

The blond scanned the room, finally catching Thomas’ eye. His mouth twitched up in a small smile and he sat down in the chair across from Thomas.

“Hello,” Thomas said, giving him a weary smile. Keeping busy all day had its drawbacks.

“Hi,” Jimmy said, tapping his fingers on the table. He told himself it was idiotic to be nervous; he had every right to talk with Thomas. “So…there’s still something I’d like to talk to you about,” he said, clearing his throat.

Thomas briefly wondered if Jimmy had been as jumpy all day as he’d been. The footman certainly looked uneasy now. “Yes, your mysterious conversation that was more important than sleep,” Thomas said, keeping his face a mask.

Jimmy blushed faintly—Thomas wouldn’t have even noticed had he not become familiar with all of his friend’s mannerisms. “Yeah. But…I don’t want to talk here,” he said, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear. They seemed too caught up in their card game to notice the two men, however.

“Alright, Thomas asked, stubbing out his cigarette. He knew that the only other option was Jimmy’s room, their usual place. He followed behind the footman as they went up the stairs, filled with insatiable curiosity . “You’ve really built up the suspense, you know,” Thomas said nonchalantly, trying to disguise just how curious he was.

Jimmy felt incredibly self-conscious as he opened the door and let Thomas into his room. “Have I? Oh. Well, we could have gotten this over with last night, had you not insisted on treating me like a baby,” Jimmy pointed out.

“Excuse me for looking out for you,” Thomas said, taking a seat in the armchair that was still next to Jimmy’s bed. Looking out for Jimmy seemed to be the root of a lot of problems, Thomas thought. “Now, let’s have it. What shall we talk about tonight?” he asked, his usual cheeky smirk on his face to cover up his nerves.

Jimmy took a seat on the bed, wringing his hands in his lap. “I was wondering if we could talk about…when you kissed me,” he mumbled.

Thomas bristled, sitting up straighter with a defensive glint in his eye. “Why?” he asked, hesitant to relive that night. It had been so long, he’d thought it was forgotten. Apparently not.

Jimmy looked into Thomas’ eyes, feeling very small. He knew it wasn’t an easy subject; Thomas had nearly gone to jail over a harmless misunderstanding. “I…I know it’s been a long time, but I don’t think I ever really apologized to you for everything—“ he began quietly.

“You don’t need to,” Thomas cut him off. “It wasn’t your fault.” Even if it had been, both of them knew that Thomas would never blame Jimmy for it.

“Let me speak,” Jimmy insisted. “Please. I was new here, remember, and I wanted to do all the right things. And O’Brien seemed like she knew her stuff, so I listened to her, even though I wasn’t really… I didn’t agree with some of her advice. Particularly when she told me to report you. I didn’t want to do that, you’ve got to believe me,” Jimmy said earnestly, looking at him again.

“I do believe you,” Thomas said. He’d always known O’Brien had been behind it; there was no way Jimmy would have been so malicious towards him. “But this was years ago. Why does it matter now? We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Thomas asked, getting to the question that had been haunting him the last two days.

“Yes, of course we are,” Jimmy said hurriedly. “I wanted to bring it up because I’ve been thinking that maybe if things had gone differently…if O’Brien hadn’t interfered and made me so scared of everyone’s reactions…” Jimmy stopped, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I was afraid. So I may have…pushed you away a bit too forcefully,” he managed to say. It felt like his heart was beating in his throat, and it was difficult for the words to seep up around it.

Thomas was silent as he looked Jimmy over. He felt stunned by what he was hearing, and quickly began jumping to conclusions. All the things he hadn’t dared to hope resurfaced in his mind. Thomas had learned, however, that it paid to be wary. “What are you saying?” he asked, his tone even and his face unreadable. “I don’t want for there to be any miscommunication between us.” That seemed to be the source of all their problems, after all.

Jimmy’s courage melted from him as he stole a glance at Thomas’ stoic face. He didn’t want to say anything more, but he had a feeling that Thomas would get the truth out of him one way or another. He brushed his fingers through his gold hair nervously and stammered out his words. “I’m saying that I… Well, I mean, I’m sure it’s far too late for it, but I’ve realized now that, after the initial shock of things, and after having so much time to think on it, y’know, I think that maybe… I have feelings for you.” He mumbled the last words, staring down at his bedspread and picking at a loose thread so that he wouldn’t have to look at Thomas with bright red cheeks.

There was a moment of tense silence between them as Thomas processed what he’d heard and Jimmy waited for a response.

Finally, Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He found himself unable to say anything eloquent or graceful as he would have liked. He was too much in shock to even muster a snide remark. Jimmy chanced a look at him, trying to guess what was going on in Thomas’ head. He’d never seen Thomas so lost—except for one time, in this same room.

“Do you mean it?” Thomas finally asked, his voice no more than a whisper. The expression in his eyes left Jimmy mesmerized; it was more honest and open and _hopeful_ than he’d ever imagined Thomas could look.

Jimmy nodded. “Of course I mean it. And I understand if it’s too late or something, y’know. I get it. I mean, after everything that happened, I wouldn’t blame you if you’d moved on or something like—”

“Moved on?” Thomas asked with a breath of a laugh. He blinked, surprised to find tears in his eyes. “How could I even begin to do that, if I’ve seen you every day for the past two years?”

“You still…feel that way?” Jimmy asked in disbelief. He’d dreamed of this moment, but had always warned himself that it was unlikely to ever come. Now, though, Thomas was sitting across from him, close enough to touch, crying for love of him. Jimmy hesitantly reached out for Thomas’ hand, wondering if that would be too much.

Thomas entwined his fingers with Jimmy’s and smiled, wiping his cheeks with his free hand. “I love you, Jimmy. You know that,” he said softly.

The words sank into Jimmy’s skin, and he could feel them flutter in his ribs. He smiled and squeezed Thomas’ hand. “I love you too, Thomas,” he confessed, and laughed from sheer relief of being able to say it. Thomas laughed as well, both of them sloughing off the tension and uncertainty from a moment ago. Jimmy pulled him closer by the hand, and Thomas moved to sit next to him on the bed. Jimmy put an arm around his waist and moved close to him as best he could. “You know, it would be nice to have you kiss me while I was awake,” Jimmy said playfully, looking up at Thomas as he rested his head on the older man’s shoulder.

Thomas smiled and obliged, kissing him tenderly and savoring every second of it. He’d dreamt of this moment a hundred times—thought up thousands of fairy-tale scenarios of the two of them. _This is better than a fairy tale_ , Thomas thought as he pulled away and looked down at Jimmy to see the blond smiling at him. _This is real._


End file.
